To Gillian

I remember a girl from school — a legal secretary, I think. Gillian was cool, genuinely cool. Big heart. Kind. A good student. The kind of person I wish I’d had the courage to know. But I didn’t. That was on me, not the school, not her … me.

I was reserved. Too much had happened. I missed opportunity for friendship more than once. There were guys who smiled at me one day and threw rocks the next. I learned to stay small, to disappear. And in doing that, I missed out. Not on everything … but on enough.

I carried pain like a badge. Being moody. Betrayed. Overlooked. That those shadows take up all the space. But the truth is, there were good people too. I just didn’t know how to see them.

Gillian was one of them.

Years later, I saw her name. I reached out. She responded — kindly. And I messed it up. Made a fool of myself. But before I did, she gave me something rare … a moment. Recognition. Proof that I wasn’t invisible. That maybe I never had been. And that stayed with me.

If Gillian ever reads this … I want her to see it. Right here. Not buried on some page you’ll never click to. Because she deserves to know she mattered. She made a difference. She gave me a chance. And she gave me something else too — a future.